An unorthodox alliance
by Kyana-Morgaine
Summary: "Something snapped in him in this very moment, in which he took his goddaughter for the first time. It was not his heart, he claimed that it could never break, because it was a musle and muscles are not able to "break", but his mask. His mask and everything it stood for." I'm not a native speaker, so just be kind and please ignore any gramatical mistakes.
1. Chapter 1

**I**

Something snapped in him in this very moment, in which he took his goddaughter for the first time. It was not his heart, he claimed that it could never break, because it was a muscle and muscles are not able to "break", but his mask. His mask and everything it stood for.

John Watson had pushed him, Sherlock Holmes, his daughter Elizabeth Sherly in his arms. And Sherlock had remained still to the spot, slightly panicking and staring down at the baby as he was concerned, he might just drop it. By carelessness or inexperience. Or just because he was Sherlock Holmes.

"She likes you," John cooed, obviously still in luck by the just experienced birth.

"Nonsense, John. She is 20 minutes old and thus ... "

"Shut up, Sherlock!"

Mary shot a photo with her cell phone. Were woman not supposed to be tired and in need of rest just after childbirth? Why was this damn cell phone within her reach?

"This one gets a place of honor in her baby book! Your facial expression, Sherlock, it is quite unique! "Mary saved the picture and sent it simultaneously to Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Such a situation had never been happened before:

Sherlock Holmes with a baby in his arms.

What the newly parents did not see because it was happening deep within Sherlock and blew his well-ordered mind palace almost to pieces, was the realization that nothing would be left of him in the world if he would die someday. He would fall into total oblivion, as if he had never lived.

John and Mary on the other hand, ... Elisabeth would be the token of their existence and her children and so on...

_Feelings ...?_

No, he always lived in the here and now, he wasted little thought on the future, because future just played a minor role in his world view.

He was relieved when John took the little creature from him. Whatever just happened to Sherlock Holmes, he did not really understand it and about that he was almost shocked to his bones, overwhelmed and scared. A condition he did not like and that had to be cured as soon as possible. Reorganising and renovating his heavily dilapidated mind palace would cost him probably countless hours. And all that just because of a baby!

* * *

The facts:

Sherlock Holmes wants a child of his own to whom he could pass on his knowledge.

Sherlock Holmes is not made for relationships or even married life and thus a really poor candidate for a partner.

Sherlock Holmes understanding of young infants is similar to bees knowledge on atomic physics.

Conclusion:

The sudden plan to reproduce was forced to fail from the very beginning. Even the mere lack of an egg including a womb to gestate is difficult to rectificate.

* * *

"Ah, Molly! Just the person I was looking for! "

Molly jumped in surprise when Sherlock Holmes came into the morgue in the early morning hours, billowing coat behind him. It happened only rarely now that he caught her unawares, but who expected a visit at half past four? Even for Sherlock this time was quite unusual.

"Good morning?" she said questioningly.

Sherlock stopped directly in front of her. He looked her up and down with his all-pervading eyes.

Molly waited for Sherlock to manifest the reason for his appearance but he kept sighed.

"What can I do for you? I say it rather in advance, I have no interesting body for you. Only ordinary suicides and natural deaths. "

"That's not exactly why I'm here."

"Oh? Well, if you look for another material for experience I have anything new in store since you left this,... uhm yesterday morning with a cooler. "

Sherlock blinked and took a step closer to Molly. The young woman, who was sitting behind a microscope and examined samples started to feel unwell. It was not unusual for Sherlock to come that close to her, but he always did when he wanted something from her. Then he flirted and complimented her. And when he got what he desired, like body parts, a look at a victim, or a sample evaluation to nightly hours, he became cold and rude again. It was always the same game. Manipulation. Sherlock Holmes was a master of puppets. And Molly a perfect puppet for him. Rarely she denied him any request.

Sherlock began to speak as Molly started to organise anew some Petri dishes next to the microscope to avoid for his gaze.

"Molly, I intend to reproduce with you."


	2. Chapter 2

English is not my native language. So please forgive any mistakes in grammar, spelling or in vocabulary.

It is just a story and written for fun!

* * *

II

Shocked to the bones by Sherlocks' just incurred request, no, his demand, Molly dropped the petri dish, which she had held in her hand. That one fell on the others, which had been stored on the desktop and now shattered into hundreds of tiny shards. The usually neat workplace was a battlefield within a few seconds.

With open mouth Molly stared at Sherlock, who stood stoically in front of her, without any emotion shown in his face or gesture.

"Have you gone completely mad?", she finally managed to say. Her face had turned ashen.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. He did not understand.

"Why should I be mad? I assume that our genetic material is highly compatible. We are both more than above average intelligence and authorities in our areas of expertise. It is all too logical that we both should reproduce ourselves each each other... "

"Uhm ..."

"... in addition, both our biological clock is ticking. You are 35 years old and as you surely know, now increases the danger of risky pregnancies, however, I aspire to my 40ies and the ability to inherit mutations or diseases increases. And I doubt that you would like to keep yourself busy in your seniority with just cats accompanying you ... I myself also want to avoid to be able to entertain myself as an old man only with a skull. "

Molly was still staring at him, speechless. Had she understood just right? Sherlock Holmes wanted a child? With her? In all the years that she now had known him, he had not given any impression in the least, to eventually start a family or want to put at least an offspring into the world. He had rather always advocated the opposite: he despied emotions and sentiments and avoided close ties, called them even weaknesses. He was neither for relationships, nor a thing for subtlety or tact and the word "love" was tantamount to an insult for him.

"Molly?" Sherlock was getting a bit impatient because the pathologist was still sitting petrified in front of the microscope and even disregarded the shards of chaos under her chair.

"Sherlock, allow me a question: Why do you suddenly want to become a father? Sire a child? You used to tell every time that you are not much into your own family and specifies this by saying that your brother has a power complex and your parents are too ordinary. And now you want even start a family on your own?"

Sherlock snorted, "Who'd said something about family? One child, gender irrelevant. "

"Well, then you now have a problem: I definitely will not have a child without being able to offer him or her a family. Especially not if the father himself is vacant! "

Absolute silence. Sherlock was suddenly interested in the linoleum floor. Then he looked up.

Molly had now composed herself and was on the verge, however unintentionally, to unsettle the great Sherlock Holmes.

"How do you want to actually implement your little experiment? Invitro fertilization? Or the old fashioned way? "

"Well ... what old-fashioned way?"

Molly sighed: "Sex?"

He opened his eyes in a sudden.

"Uh, oh that, well ... I would be guided by you. I think. What you think is for the better. "

"Too friendly, Sherlock."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"However!"

"Well, ok, ...do you agree?"

She choked on her laughter. He was actually deadly serious about that idea! Sherlock Holmes, the only consultant detectives in the world, self-proclaimed sociopath, emotional illiterate, wanted to really be a father!

It was all quiet. There had to be a deeper meaning behind this lunacy. Sherlock decided not on a whim that he wanted a child.

"John," she stared at him. It struck her like scales from the eyes. "You want a child because John had just a got a baby, right?"

Sherlock did not respond, instead he went on to counterattack.

"I know very well, Molly, that you want to have a child for years. I also know that you have already begun to consider whether a seed bank could be an option for you. I offer a win-win situation here. We both want a child, we both want the best genes. You are one of the few people who get along with me just fine,... I'll spare you the constant disappointments while dating and searching for a suitable donor. When we do get together, we both get what we want. Win-win."

Molly sighed.

"I prefer to produce a child the old fashioned way ... but I also prefer the possibility of a family, and that's something that you're so averse to. How do you imagine your life with your baby? A baby cries, it needs to be wrapped in diaphers and fed, it needs warmth and nearness. Can you do that? Are you willing to get up in the middle of the night and to take care of your a small little individual? It is not done with the conviction, it'll last a lifetime."

"Molly ... I know! And I guarantee you to not consider fathering a child, if I had not previously thought through everything. So? "

"My commitment would be tied to some conditions."

"Yeah, yeah ... okay, whatever."

Molly bit her lower lip and chewed around on it for a while. Sherlock grew more and more impatient second by second running by, but he remained silent and not jostled on. He had said all he could say on this topic and his proposal. Now it was up to Molly.

Finally, Molly glanced in his direction.

"Ok, when, how and where?"


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

The project "child" was master-planned by Sherlock Holmes. The Consultant Detective seemed to leave nothing to mere a chance. He also seemed to want to implement the project just quickly.

Molly had agreed to speak in advance with her gynecologist to rule out any risk factors. Sherlock himself had also consulted a doctor. His long-term drug addiction a few years ago made him finally realize that there might be also a danger, even if he had been clean for years now. Both agreed to play with open cards.

Molly had formulated her conditions clearly in front of him him and they had deviated all of them without long hesitation. Probably it was kind of hoping, even if she still wanted so much to have a child, the higher she would stake out the hurdles for him, the faster he would reject this project because it would be too much the circumstances or all the trappings.

And in fact Sherlock had initially stared stunned, with his mouth slightly open, then he stormed out with her list of conditions in hand out of the café, where they had met on Molly's initiative, seeing these delicate matter either to be discussed in her flat nor in Sherlocks, but at a neutral place, and then wandering around in London for more than an hour, only to find Molly still waiting for him at the cafe again.

"Have you calmed down again?" She asked quietly, as the tall man settled back into the chair across from her, "Your coffee is probably unfortunately inedible now."

"I need something stronger," he muttered.

"I told you that I tie my consent to conditions."

Sherlock looked up and let the paper with Molly's handwriting slip on the table between them. It listed in detail the conditions under which she was willing to put up with him a child into this world. Sherlock had worn in his mind palace all those things together, which is why he wanted to be a father; Molly, however, had written down all the things that he had not taken into account for certain reasons.

1. If their project would turn out successful and Molly would conceive she would move into John's old room at 221B Baker Street, so they could take care in equal parts for the child. As a family.

(Sherlock had not taken this into account, because he did not intend for the simple reason to start a family.)

2. To avoid any misunderstandings they would tell all in their close environment with the announcement of the pregnancy and fact of their platonic relationship.

(His parents would grill him, no matter that they now had their long-awaited grandchild coming... and Mycroft would be able to wallow extensively in his disgrace for years.) Actually, he had hoped that they would settle the experimental project discreetly, on the other hand, a heavily pregnant Molly with no known relationship already raised some questions ...

3. A month before and one month after the due date he had to take a baby time. In this period, no cases were processed, regardless of whether they were a 2 or a 9 on the scale!

(This was certainly the hardest of all conditions. He was bored quickly, and he was not sure if he would survive this time, without shooting new holes in the living rooms' wall, transforming the kitchen into hazardous waste or „asked" Molly's cat Toby, who undoubtedly also would move in with her to „assist" in his experiments-

The 4th and later points treated body parts in refrigerators, the order and cleanliness of the apartment and his cigarette consumption.

"You have not really thought about it how to explain to the people around you your sudden fatherhood, have you? There will be many questions. Since I have it a little easier with no close relatives, you, Sherlock, on the other hand have your parents and your brother. And they will ask questions ... especially Mycroft is absolutedly able to add one and one together when he sees me with a growing belly."

In fact, Sherlock had simply ruled out these facts. Family, sentimentality and everything that went with it were not so much his territory. That was stupid of him, unforgivable. Weaknesses, ... he did not allow these to himself, yet he had now to handle them due to the fact that his plan affected other individuals people directly. An alternative did not exist, at least if he wanted to have Molly as the mothers' project on board.

"I understand. Ok, ok ... so then ... "he took a deep breath, pulled himself together. He hated it when he was taken out of the concept. "As we shall now proceed?"

Molly sighed. "Invitro or natural?"

"Did not you say you'd prefer the natural conception?" His brows drew together again

"Would you agree for this method?"

"Why should I not? Because it's about sex? "

Molly tilted her head. Okay, well... She chewed on her lower lip for a moment.

"This weekend then. My cycle is then centered, fertile days, according to my doctor, the best time for conception. I've taken some time off from work and you should also consider a „case-less" weekend. "

He nodded: "At yours?"

"Somehow I think it would be strange if we have to beware of getting caught by Mrs. Hudson."

This should work out exhilarating, but Sherlock just swallowed a little. Doing the organization was necessary and just fine, but he had something very important missed to tell her ; something of importance that usually would not upset him at all and appeared unimportant, but could now be considered a drawback: Sherlock Holmes experience in sexual matters were rudimentary and were limited to a kiss, which he exchanged as an experiment during his days at university with a fellow female student; other data were limited to the study of books and the internet.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

**Friday evening**

Modest change of plans.

After it had occurred to him as a sufficiently explainable reason why he could not be achieved for two days, he pretended to take a case outside of London. Portsmouth appeared to be far enough away from London. Since John was of course still busy with his new family, his wife and daughter, he could not assist in solving it. Therefore, he would take Molly Hooper with him. Molly had already helped him out one time or another instead of John.

Simple explanation, perfect alibi. For him and for her!

He had therefore booked a room for both of them in a hotel. On Monday morning they would come back by, just in time for Molly shift in St. Barts.

It was probably quite suitable to pack a small travel bag, even if they would probably not leave the hotel room very often. Would they? He had absolutely no idea how the weekend would work out. He had not planned that deeply because it had nothing to do with the actual act of procreation.

Procreation ...

He had googled but mainly ended up on porn sites, and despite his lack of experience he knew that porn had nothing to do with reality. Moreover that very goal of the weekend was to have a child and not to amuse themselves. Molly would be likely to agree with him. He still had not told her that his knowledge of sexual intercourse was based only on theory and not on practical experience, but because they wanted to play with open cards it was probably better to tell her the tale. If he would conceal it and she would notice it in bed, and he had no doubt that she would notice it, she would probably complain that he had not told her the truth. Well, he had not lied. He had just not spoken about the issue.

They had arranged to meet at Waterloo station to get the train to Portsmouth Harbour. Molly was already waiting for him, she had just bought the tickets and handed him his. She seemed a little nervous because she played with the cord of her jacket. As Sherlock had called yesterday evening, called, not texted, that they were going to Portsmouth, she did not know at first what he wanted to achieve with it. Then she found out: they would be let in peace. No annoying questions or excuses. Mrs. Hudson would not tackle them where Sherlock was when he was gone two days in a row. That would not call Mycroft Holmes on the plan, who could only suspect his little brother would slip back into drugs. And it would not tempted Dr. John Watson to look for him, because he suspected as well Sherlock would be out for a fix in some hovel.

"They've bought you the story?"

"Of course, it is not unusual that I take a case outside of London."

"Even John is not suspicious?"

"John is currently occupied elsewhere, Molly," he sighed, "At the moment I check my email account, not my blogger. We are absolutely secure. "

They made their way to the track with their lightweight luggage. He offered to bear Molly's bag but she just shook her head and headed on towards the wagons.

"But why exactly Portsmouth?" She asked as they entered one of the saloons and looked for an empty seat. Luckily the train was not too crowded at this time. The commuter rush hour and weekend traffic would only crash in an hour to the train station with full force.

"Have you ever been there?" Sherlock replied with a question, but Molly said no, "My parents had been there with Mycroft and me quite often in the summer. We then ferried to the Isle of Wight, where an aunt, my father's sister, lives in order to visit for one or the two days. I've always liked the old port. "

"Oh, yes, I remember: You wanted to be a pirate."

Sherlock smiled, but then he had to laugh.

The train began to move. The guard stamped their tickets when they left London behind. Molly pulled out the latest Forensic Magazine and began to read. Even Sherlock tried to read but his attempt was not to last long. He had to talk to Molly about his non-existent experience. Now.

Why did he feel as if to be put into a confession in front of her? Because it might actually be a confession? In a certain way? He was not sure if she had heard of his nickname, the one Irene Adler had given him: The virgin. John sometimes made a joke about it but he had never actually asked him how far this nickname was not just a nickname but actually corresponded to certain facts. And maybe Molly assumed this solely because of his desire for a child, he decreed experience in this field.

"Uhm, Molly ..."

The young pathologist looked not even up from her magazine. She just seemed to read an article she was immensely interesting.

"Hm?"

Sherlock glanced at the title and then decided that he had to get the latest magazine for himself on the way back or at best even earlier.

"Molly ..." he was a little impatient. He needed for what was coming her undivided attention. He could not wait until they were in Portsmouth at the hotel.

Finally she actually looked up. She noticed immediately that something was going on.

"Sherlock, do not tell me now, please, that you have actually adopted a case in Portsmouth! We have, God knows, something else to do! ... "

He was a bit perplexed but shook his head vehemently.

"No, no case. It's a little ... complicated. "

Molly looked at him questioningly. Was Sherlock Holmes nervous? And they were not even in the vicinity of their hotel room yet; apart from the fact that it was a rarity to see him so. Usually it was Molly, who was nervous and she also knew that she would be nervous the closer the evening would come.

"You have one more hour until we arrive in Portsmouth," her attempt to act funny, likely unsuccessful miserably, to whatever it was Sherlock wanted to tell her. His brows drew closely together again. Molly sighed and tried a second attempt.

"What is it?"

The Consultant Detective beside her was not like the Sherlock she knew. The person next to her did not look at her, his words were said softly, he looked quite nervous and wringed his hands. But he suddenly began to speak.

"I've never done anything like this."

"Pardon? What have you never done before? "

"Well, that ..."

Molly sighed, but then she put up again a slight smile.

"I'm afraid I do not know exactly what you mean."

Sherlock decided to make it short and painless. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and then spit the truth out.

"I have never slept with another individual, neither male nor female. My experience regarding sexuality consists of a kiss at the age of 22, the reading of several books and some research on the Internet. "

Molly's smile froze at first, then it slipped.

"You're not about say you actually googled 'sex'?", a look at his face told her that he had indeed done this, "God, Sherlock!"

"I know about the theory," he defended himself meekly, "besides, I'm a fast learner."

"That has nothing to do with it! Damn, I should have said ... in vitro; we are traveling to generate a child ... "

Now it was on Sherlock Holmes to look a little bit insulted: "I would not have offered this opportunity, if I was not ready for it."

"But why do you come forward with it just now? Although I have heard about your nickname I thought it was some kind of joke, because you always have distanced yourself from any relationships. At least as long as I know you! What happened before was off my knowledge. "

"We've said 'open cards' ..."

She just nodded and whispered, " Okay."

Then she went back to her magazine. This confession she had to let it sink into her mind. Sherlock beside her sank deeper into his seat. He waited a few minutes but when Molly said nothing more and struggled not on another call, he decided to spend the rest of the travel in his mind palace.

Suddenly he felt the crave for a cigarette.

No, for a whole box.


	5. Chapter 5

**Sorry for not updating in a long time but I was quite occupied by my job. But well, I haven't abandoned this story...! Enjoy! Please leave a review and ignore any mistakes.**

* * *

**V**

Portsmouth sank in rain. Sherlock organized a taxi as soon as possible for them while Molly reluctantly followed him into the pouring rain. Within a short time they were soaked.

Gentlemanlike he held the cardoor open for Molly and put their luggage in the trunk before he sat down beside her and told the driver their final destination. The hotel was just outside the city and right on the beach. Molly was amazed because Sherlock had apparently booked a room at a five-star hotel. She was speechless.

At the reception she then learned also that he had not just booked a simple room but a small suite. Did he want to impress her? That would be so not Sherlock-like and it was not even necessary to impress her in any way.

She knew what and who he was. She had known him for years. And now they were here to start a new level in their somehow odd relationship.

"There wasn't anything smaller available at that short notice," Sherlock murmured in her direction. He had of course noticed her irritation.

"Ok ... it's beautiful here. You can see the sea front from the window. "

As they carried just little baggage with them, she were not in need of a bellboy who helped them with it. With the elevator they went to the top floor and reached by short steps the door of their suite. Sherlock opened the door and carried in their luggage, Molly followed him.

Large living room, bedroom, bathroom, a small balcony, all in Victorian style. Precious. The bathroom had measured input weights and marble tiles. The young pathologist knew that she would not leave without taking a long bath in this bathroom. In the bedroom dominated a large double bed with old-fashioned curtains, a kind of canopy bed. In the living room stood a heavy sofa with matching chairs and table.

"Dinner?"

Molly nodded.

"Perfect, I've already made a reservation. But perhaps we should fresh up. "

"However, I have not packed an appropriate gown. You did not tell me exactly where we were accommodated. "

He nodded: "The red blouse that you love to wear and have securely packed, should be just as appropriate as any gown."

"How do you...? Oh forget about it, nevermind ... "she threw her Overnightbag on the bed and opened it. In fact, she had packed her favorite blouse. Along with the dark pants and her ballerinas should make her appearance in the restaurant not attract negative attention. Sherlock, however, as usual, wore a suit with one of his tight-fitting shirts. He briefly left the bedroom, so Molly could change clothes and freshen up in the en-suite bathroom. So Molly slipped quickly out of her comfy clothes into her favorite red blouse and dark trousers, and she even dared to put up some make-up.

"Are you ready?"

Sherlock seemed a little impatient.

"Are you hungry, Sherlock?" She said loudly in his direction, teasing him, but Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Reservation for 7 clock. It is now 6:56. "

"I'm done," she murmured and slipped into her black ballerinas. Then she followed Sherlock down to the restaurant. The moment now felt somehow as a date. Sherlock and the restaurant. Sherlock would actually eat something in her presence and in the presence of other people. He would indeed eat something. The consultant detective loved to boast that he did not eat during his cases because digestion would slow him down and off-case only irregularly. He rarely visited Tesco or Sainsbury, Mrs. Hudson provided him usually with food. His fridge was normally filled with experiments and was occupied by body parts.

* * *

**Friday night**

They both sat on the edge at the foot of their hotel bed. Juxtaposition. In pajamas. Molly had waived wearing a nightgowm with kitten motif and actually found something plain in the depths of her wardrobe. Sherlock, however combined two styles in his attire: elegance in the form of a silk pajama pants and the absolute permeability through his outworn gray t-shirt.

Both have in common the realization that they felt unwell and totally out of place.

"Before we start ... uhm ..." he began to break the silence. He did not look at her and she not at him; both just stared straight ahead. "Just for the record: I'm sure we do the right thing."

"As for what again?"

"The alternative would vitro. Explain this to the child to explain later, ... Molly, I know you ... well ... "

Seeing Sherlock Holmes that insecure was quite disturbing for Molly. That was not so not him. But she knew that Sherlock had to have noticed, in fact, that she had feelings for him. No, not only feelings, Molly loved him. For years.

"It's ok, it was actually more than obvious, right? I'm not good at hiding my feelings. "

"OK."

"But I also know that this Intermezzo serves only the purpose of creating a child. I do not make any illusions for... . I agreed, didn't I? "

"Well, well ..." he murmured softly, "Shall we begin?"

"If you're ready?"

"I trust your leadership here."

Molly took a deep breath and composed herself. As she turned to him she noticed that he had done so as well and had moved closer to her. Much closer.

The first kiss was very shy. Overly cautious. Austestend. Sherlock's eyes were closed at the moment his and her lips met for the first time. The intimate contact with another individual made him wince. He had already kissed a woman but that had been forever and three days ago. In addition he had stood under the influence of heroin. And this was different. Entirely different.

This was Molly. The mother of his unborn and currently still unbegotten offspring.

"Are you okay?" Molly's voice was trembling slightly.

"Of course."

"So? You are petrified. "

"It's been a while ... since I ... well ... this ..."

He was silent for he turned straight into a shy, stuttering something. He threatened not to be himself. And yet he was not going to back down now. It cost him some willpower to go on or even start properly.

"Maybe this mess not such a good idea," Molly murmured sadly, but suddenly she found herself in his arms again. Sherlock had given a huge jerk and took the initiative. Although the kiss was gentle at first it soon he became more intimate; passionate. Sherlock hid his inexperience and let Molly take the lead.

And so he found himself a few moments later half lying on her body. His pathologist had leaned back and pulled him along. Her tongue had obtained entrance to his mouth. This fact alone shifted his loins in turmoil. He began to lose control of his body. The surest sign was the hardening his member. While his brain was still trying to process the situation, Molly had already begun to take the next step. Her hands had stolen under his shirt and painted covetously over his chest and his back.

* * *

Sherlock Holmes lost his virginity a few minutes before midnight to Dr. Molly Hooper. His mind threatened to black out. He had never experienced something that intense. As an ex-junkie, he knew how he responded to such stimuli ...

Of course he had heard that sex could become an addiction for some people, and he sincerely hoped that his reward center would be satisfied again with cigarettes, when Molly and him would have accomplished this mission.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for waiting this long! But, well, I'm back again and yes, I'm already working on the next chapter. For now enjoy and leave a review or a pm. I might even answer. :)**

* * *

**VI **

He knew he should sleep to gather some strength, but at the moment he was only capable of staring at the ceiling. His brain was restless, it was racing. It tried to process the information and events he collected in the last few hours. Sherlock knew that he could never erase this night from his memories, even if he had wanted it. It was burned into a wall in Molly's room in his mind palace. Irrevocable. Forever.

The female counterpart said action was fast asleep belly astride beside him. Her long hair messed up like a bird's nest behind and above her. Relaxed facial features.

_She looks pretty when she is sleeping ... _

He narrowed his eyes. _What the ...? _

If had he known how stunning and intoxicating a sexual union could be he would certainly have been much more likely to indulge this pleasure from time to time because his body was so relaxed than it has been for ages. Of course, he was restless, his world had virtually collapsed; the fact that he had lost his virginity after 38 years. Eventually fatigue won and triumphed over his restless brain...

* * *

At 6:30am his mobile phone rang. Still sleepy, he quickly answered the call but damage was already done. Beside him Molly awoke from her dreams, she stretched beyond the covers and yawned.

"John?"

"Oh, have you been sleeping? Sherlock Holmes asleep during a case investigation? "

Sherlock was immediately wide awake.

"Nonsense, you have torn me from my mind palace."

"And how is it so?"

"Uhm, well ...? Molly and I are making progress. We will be back in London on Monday. "

"Well, I hope you do not make her cry tears this time again. I'll text her that she otherwise has my absolute agreement, to slap you several times, you arrogant git. "

"Why should she? I have organized us a room in a luxury hotel. "

"One room ?!" he heard John literally screaming into his mobile phone, "Sherlock, where is Molly? If you have occupied the bed for yourself and let the poor thing sleep on the sofa, then God help you ...! "

Suddenly Molly Sherlock's mobile phone was in her hand. She had overheard the conversation in parts and estimated that Sherlock was not really in a position to explain the situation to John without making the doctor suspicious, or worse, making the doctor assume Sherlock would behave incorrect towards Molly.

"Good morning, John," Molly began quietly.

"Oh, well, Molly, whatever Sherlock did ..."

"No, Sherlock has really done nothing wrong. There was only one room in this hotel. Some a local festival, whatever. The bed is huge, even Sherlock can not use it solely for himself. "

"You have any idea ...!"

She laughed: "No, Mr. Holmes has been very gentlemen-like."

"Please do not let him boss you, ok?"

"I promise. How's the family? "

A sigh was heard at the other end of the line: "Our daughter does not know the principle of night's sleep yet."

"She'll be better soon. Cheer up, John! Please send our love to Mary. "

She ended the call and gave Sherlock the mobile back.

"If you do not want John to notice immediately what exactly our case is you should exercise a little more care in your statements!"

He sighed wearily and puts the phone back on the nightstand. His body felt strange. Relaxed. While he had slept with Molly his brain had been absolutely quiet. The drugs had never done so effectively. And he had never felt so good after the drug high.

_Why did I prohibite me this type of diversion again, the satisfaction of natural impulses? _

_Sentiment ... _

_Oh, yes, that's it ... sentiment. _

_Feelings ... _

He was not entirely sure anymore if Mycroft had really been correct with the views he had taught Sherlock and which the two brother strictly followed until these days, sentiment … sentiment being a chemical defect found on the losing side.

Instinctively his body sought for warmth. As Sherlock Holmes awoke from his thoughts, he found himself spooning, clinging to Molly, his arms wrapped around her, his hands resting on her belly.

If he was totally honest with himself, he liked to lie in Molly's arms or even feel her body. Her warmth and her closeness. Probably he _needed_ her.

And this "need" also propagated in the meaning of health,with respect to the satisfaction of certain sexual needs or the natural urge for an heir.

_An heir? In what century are we living again...?_

* * *

**Saturday **

Whenever there was a beach to explore Molly Hooper would always use the option at the first opportunity and whatever weather was ruling outsite and have a stroll towards the beach.

Problem: A 38-year-old, whose specialty was to sulk or get tantrums that would let every 5-year-old become green with envy.

She had showered, washed away the traces of last night, got dressed and ordered room service because she had missed breakfast, and was about to put on weatherproof clothes as Sherlock, still in pajamas and dressing gown and in the initial stage of sulking, invaded her personal space by posting himself just centimetres in fron of her.

"Where are you going?"

"Beach," she replied simply.

"But we wanted to work on our project ...!"

"Sherlock, are you really planning to spend the entire weekend in bed with sex? Without leaving the room at all? "

"Uhm, yes ...?" That sounded rather a question than an actual answer.

"I certainly did not. I want to go to the beach for a walk and get some fresh air. You can join me if you like, or stay here, "she sighed, shrugged her shoulders and began to slip into her shoes. Sherlock stared at her. Molly's determination to stand against him, impressed him in a way and irritated him in a different way. Soon he wondered if he should turn around and occupy the couch sulking but then decided against it.

"Give me 10 minutes," he muttered, walking in the direction of the bathroom. A few seconds later, Molly just caught her warm jacket, she heard water rushing in the bathroom. In record time Sherlock was showered and dressed. No time for a shave nor for the hair dryer. But as it did not bother Sherlock why should it bother her?

"Come on," she handed him his Belstaff cout, "I'll buy you coffee."

The prospect of coffee brightened Sherlock mood just very little. He still was and remained in his famous sulking-mode, but he escorted Molly escorted down the street without great muttering. In a coffee shop the young woman bought twi cups of steaming coffe shortly after leaving the hotel and pushed one of these cups in Sherlock's hand who had waited outside in the cold. After the first sip Sherlock thought that Molly's idea to leave the suite certainly had something for itself, after the second sip he could imagine to take a walk on the beach and after the third sip he made her a serious offer to be her guide for a private sightseeing tour.


	7. Chapter 7

**VII **

**Saturday afternoon **

Although their night, their first night together, had been quite successful in Sherlock's eyes, their arrangement would be running into a different direction the moment Molly would push a positive pregnancy test under his nose. Would it not?

So they had actually agreed, by consensus.

Of course he would be present throughout the pregnancy, not only physically, but also supportively. He would accompany her to preparationen classes and would be with her to all the things couples did so when they became parents.

But they were actually not a couple.

Only someone like Sherlock Holmes would dare to use search engines on the internet so he had not to admit that he had deficits in certain knowledge areas which were quite remarkable for a genius.

But Molly knew that. Molly always knew! Even if she did not always really understand Sherlock, she knew, for she could see him as no one else could. Not even John.

And sentiments were a very delicate matter for Sherlock Holmes. In general, for the brothers Holmes in general, although her parents were what you would call universally as normal and ordinary.

The moment the door closed behind Molly as she was up to take a long hot bath to drive the chill from her bones, Sherlock was already sitting in front of laptop and started it.

_Affection ... _

_No problem ... that I should be able to accomplish. Somehow. It's not too difficult to fake sentiments, right? _

_Closeness ... _

_Could become a problem ... but also to manage. Molly's proximity is acceptable, she is no stranger. And when she touches me it is anything but unpleasant. I need just more practice ... a lot more practise. I can do that! _

His brain was befuddled. Now he had to pay well the price for the night activities. For the better or the worse. He could not have imagined that he would ever feel so vulnerable again. Vulnerable because Molly could see him as he really was. Not even his parents were too often able to have a look behind his mask. At the moment he could barely suppress the urge to crawl back into her arms when the opportunity arose.

And the opportunity would arise again in a few hours. He did not really have plans how he wanted to spend time outside of bed because he had been too busy to with the nights planning. His analytical brain had classified the likelihood of conception as quite high if they would take advantage of the time of their fertile days and consummated coitus at least three times per day, and if he would ejaculate in her and Molly would then put her pelvis up on a pad for some time preventing the sperm from leaving her vagina. Between each episode should elapse several hours so his testicles could produce enough sperm again after losing millions while ejaculation.

After John had called this morning, he however had lost interest in starting the incentive to initiate the early-morning coitus. His plan had been to go into production each morning shortly after waking up, around 16:00 and around 22:00.

Molly had only laughed when he told her about it. Earlier that day, after drinking another coffee on the way back to the hotel. The coffee had had the taste and smell of rinse water and he had his rapidly disposed in the nearest bin.

He put down the PC, looked up time at an old grandfather clock in one of the corners of the suite and decided to check on Molly. Miss Hooper would hardly drown in the bathtub but he was unspeakably bored. Maybe Molly could destract him. Somehow.

He knocked on the door to the bathroom.

"Molly?" cautiously he entered the bathroom without waiting for her answer. Since last night there was anyway nothing he had not seen. Molly lay closed eyed in the bathtube, in the middle of hot water; the steam had made sure that the mirror over the sink was fogged and the tiles were slightly slippery. When she heard him enter she opened one eye and looked at him questioningly, and then closed the eye again and sighed.

"Molly?" Sherlock found himself on the floor on his knees right next to the tub.

"Hmm?"

"It is after 16:00 ..."

"Oh, you were serious?"

He started sulking: "Of course!"

"And you think it works out best that way?"

"I have by now produced enough sperm to make up for the loss of last night..."

"All right, all right," she laughed softly, "So three times a day, ok."

She thought for a moment: "That makes a total of ... let me count ... seven trials?"

"Too few?" he sounded a little uncertain. She never had Sherlock Holmes heard so much uncertainty in his baritone voice, "I'm sure I could accomplish even 10 attempts, but then ..."

"I do not think it depends on the amount of attempts," she whispered, "if it does not happen this month we give it another try in four weeks. Until we'll succeed. "

He nodded thoughtfully. That sounded like a good plan. However, he would have to make something up in order to spend the days in question undisturbed and undetected with her. John was already suspicious and the good doctor would surely kill him if he might know in advance what Molly and he concocted. And in Mary he had an accomplice to let the corpse of Sherlock Holmes untraceable disappear afterwards. Even if he did not know exactly what Mary had done in their professional past life as a killer he was pretty sure she knew what to do or she would at least have contacts to make his death look like a tragic accident.

Unimaginable when the Watsons came over within the period in question and would find Molly and him while proceeding those physical activities. In addition Mrs. Hudson was a curious chatterbox. Her rooms were just below Sherlock's bedroom ...

A renewed sigh of Molly brought him back from his thoughts.

"Give me a few minutes, will you, then I'll join you in bed. Provided you're not going to keep me in the bathtub ", she teased him and saw with joy that she had brought the otherwise arrogant man out of concept. He blinked several times with the eyes as he always did when processing new information.

And then he began to undress in front of Molly's eyes. The young woman was too flabbergasted to blush yet except to somehow react differently. Sherlock Holmes was undressing in front of her? Of course she had heard from John that Sherlock likes to shuffle around in 221B simple wearing a sheet shuffled... as he also did once at Buckingham Palace, and therefore his pubic limit must be likely quite low, but this she did not expect! She had just brought him up, teased him and called out. And Sherlock had a go on it without hesitation.

Fortunately the bathtub was huge. Sherlock sat with some shaky smile beside her within seconds.

"Well, I'm sitting in the bathtub. What now? "


End file.
